Chapter 159 Chapter 159
Grace arrived home a bit late. She parked by the side of the road, then got her subscription newspapers and magazines from the mailbox by the gate. As she flipped through them, she walked into the yard. To her surprise, she found a letter—a brown paper envelope bearing only her name.
It was a rare handwritten letter.
Hello, Grace.
As I write this letter, you are sleeping soundly beside me. Yet, by the time you read it, my body will be buried deep in an unknown place. Isn't that strange? Though a year separates us, we face each other once more—you still in the world, me in hell. You read the words I wrote while I gaze greedily upon your face.
Grace, I am as vile as ever, but for the first time, I am weak.
Even after a year, I lack the courage to ask if that child was born safely.
I humbly hope he lies beside you now. Yet, I deceive myself with the comforting thought that it's all right. If he cannot be by your side, at least he can be by mine.
I tried to reclaim this child with my life—does he look like me?
I thought I could write you a long letter, but when I picked up the pen, I couldn't think of what to say.
I dragged you, the pure one, into hell, yet now I imagine that you could be moved by a letter from me. How ridiculous, isn't it?
I've done even more ridiculous things, like hiding alone in the dark projection room like a voyeur, spying on your life with Adrian. I watched you two sit at opposite ends of the sofa, each doing your own thing. Sometimes you'd smile at him; sometimes you'd snap at him. Sometimes you'd even tiptoe over to kick him and bluntly demand, "Adrian, go get me a glass of water."
Seeing that tore at my heart, but I realized I couldn't change anything. All I could do was fantasize about how wonderful it would be if the man in the footage were me.
That isn't Adrian—it's me. It's me beside you. You're smiling at me. You're getting angry with me. You're extending your toes to kick that man—it's me.
But that man isn't me. I don't have Adrian's good temper.
I wouldn't make you sit so far away from me. You have to sit next to me, preferably snuggled in my arms.
When you smile at me, I'd lean down and kiss you.
But if you snapped at me, I'd yank you close and give you a piece of my mind.
Would I pour you a glass of water? I've seriously considered that question. The answer is yes, I would. But more often than not, I'd probably order you around. "Grace, go cook me dinner. I'm hungry."
Does that sound like the delusions of a schizophrenic? Would you laugh?
Grace, you're right—everything about us is wrong. Meeting was wrong, starting was wrong, and getting tangled up with each other was wrong. Whatever we do is wrong.
Right now, I just wish I could correct these mistakes.
Grace, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the pain I caused you. I deeply regret it.
Grace, I'm willing to end all this with my death. I want to give you back your peaceful life.
Grace, Grace, Grace, Grace, Grace.
I repeat your name over and over, hoping to etch it deeper into my memory so that it can accompany me on the path to hell ahead.
Do you know, Grace?
I've thought more than once that it would have been better if we hadn't started out so badly that night.
...
The setting sun slanted in from the side, falling on the paper and making the words appear hazy.
Unnoticed, tears rolled silently from the corners of her eyes. She didn't know why she was crying; she just couldn't control herself.
It was just like a year ago when she left the obstetric ultrasound room and her strength drained away after just a few steps. She leaned against the wall in the corridor, her hands clamped over her mouth, and slowly slid down.
She had seen the nearly four-month-old fetus—the child with long arms and legs swimming and playing in the amniotic fluid.
It moved constantly—lively and cheerful—utterly unaware of its impending fate. Such a vibrant, living being!
People passed by in the corridor, their gazes landing on her in various ways.
Adrian walked over from the waiting area, ignoring the stares. He gripped her shoulders with both hands, pressed his lips together, and lifted her off the floor. "Grace, we're not having the procedure. Let's go home."
She looked up at him in shock and froze for a moment before her voice cracked. "This is Alex's child."
"It's yours too," he replied, his eyes reflecting his own struggle. Slowly, however, his gaze hardened into resolve. He looked her in the eye. "No, it's not Alex's. It's only yours. And someday, it will be ours. Grace, let's go home."
"Our child was killed by Alex," she murmured, burying her face in his shoulder and revealing the secret she'd kept hidden. "Adrian, we had a child. He killed our child. He forced me to have an abortion, threatening your life."
Adrian's body froze in that instant. He had never known that they had had a child. Never.
As she spoke, her emotions finally overwhelmed her, and she wept like a child. "I hate him. I hate him so much. He killed our child. Why should we keep his? No, we won't keep it! Absolutely not! Come on, let's go get the procedure done now. We can't let it grow any bigger!" She was nearly out of control, frantically pulling him forward. "Hurry up."
He took a few steps with her, but then he stopped abruptly and pulled her back. "Grace, let's go home."
She gradually quieted and stood there looking at him with helplessness, softly calling his name, "Adrian."
He reached out and pulled her close. After a long moment, he spoke softly. "Grace, we're not like him."
Yes, they weren't like Alex. Even though they had endured humiliation and pain, they wouldn't become people like him.
No matter how hurt you are, it can never justify hurting others.
She understood. Adrian understood. But Alex didn't. He never would.
Grace wiped away her tears, tore the letter and envelope into shreds, and tossed them into the nearby trash can. She bent down to rummage through her purse for her keys and finally found them. Before she could insert them into the lock, the door swung open from the inside.
Adrian held the baby in one arm and clutched a bottle in the other. He looked at her as if she were a savior, though his voice was filled with complaint. “I heard your car pull up ages ago. Why did it take you so long to come inside? What were you dawdling about out there? If this happens again, I'm never letting you go out alone."
She didn't answer, only smiled. But as she smiled, tears welled up in her eyes.
Truthfully, life like this was wonderful enough.